At that moment Madame herself entered the door.
"You like pretty things. Ah, you must see my rugs, if you would care to."
"Yes, indeed," Amy replied politely.
"Then come with me. They are in my room,—the best,—and the American ladies always admire them."
So the two girls followed their landlady upstairs, where she proudly displayed rug after rug of wonderful design and still more wonderful color. Martine dared not say what she thought,—that it seemed a pity that so much time had been put into things that could only dazzle rather than please the average beholder. Amy conscientiously praised those that could be properly praised,—for here and there was a rug of really artistic design,—and Priscilla gave an exclamation of delight as she noticed on the bed a really exquisite spread.
"You like that?" asked Madame. "It is good work, all by hand; only two or tree women can now make them. My old aunt who made that is dead, but—"
"It is like the finest Marseilles, only I never saw so beautiful a pattern. I did not know people could make such things by hand."
"On a loom, surely yes; there are only one or two in Meteghan, but you can see one work, if you wish, at Alexandre Babet's."
"There, that will be something to see! Is it far?" cried Martine.
"Oh, no. You can find it quickly."